


Three Two One

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [163]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dare, Drinking, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: “You want me to kiss your boyfriend at midnight? Isn’t that like your job? Are you abdicating, Barnes? Is that what you’re telling me?”





	Three Two One

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Who hasn't had gay thoughts? and New years Eve. Prompts from this [generator](http://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).

“I dare you.”

Tony frowns over his champagne flute. “You dare me to what?”

The gleam in Bucky’s eyes is half step from maniacal. “I dare you to go over there and when the clocks hits twelve, you lay one on him.”

“On who him?”

“Tsk.” Bucky grabs his arm and points his face towards the windows, towards the killer view of the city now semi-obscured by two blond brick walls. “The guy you’ve been staring at all night; hell, the whole time I’ve known you, practically. Steve.”

Tony chokes on his champagne, which is a real shame because this shit is the real thing. “Your sweet baboo Steve? That one?”

“Yep. You know another?”

“You want me to kiss your boyfriend at midnight? Isn’t that like your job? Are you abdicating, Barnes? Is that what you’re telling me?” Oh, good; his mouth’s on overdrive. Way to play it fucking cool, Stark.

Bucky laughs at him. Just straight up fucking laughs. “It’s a dare, Tony. Plain and simple. You in or not?”

Ok, so. Tony’s glass is empty and he’s working on a good buzz or he was until Barnes started running his goddamn mouth and ok, maybe he shouldn’t have complimented Bucky on owning Steve’s spectacular ass and he definitely should not have mentioned how loud they were, how many times he’d walked past a closed door and accidentally overheard Steve moaning or spitting out the hot slur of Bucky’s name.

But Barnes had taken it all in stride, just shaking his head and smirking at Tony from behind his rye whiskey and not bothering to say a damn word. Which had, perversely, only made Tony’s almost-drunk ass want to push harder. So he’d gone with:

“Rogers always been a screamer?”

Barnes lifted an eyebrow. “Always? I dunno.”

“But as long as you’ve known him.” Tony paused for effect. “In the Biblical sense.”

“Well,” Bucky said, clicking his tongue against his teeth, “the first time I sucked him off, the neighbors called the cops. They were sure somebody was being murdered.”

“Seriously?” Tony’s whole face had gone grin. “The _cops?_ ”

“Yep. Came to the door and everything.”

“And what did you say?”

Bucky’d leaned over and put on a loud whisper. “I told them my girlfriend liked it loud, but if they wanted, when I nailed her the next time, I’d put my hand over her mouth.”

Tony blinked. Blinked again. “Please tell me this was in 1940 aught.”

Bucky shrugged. “1938, actually.”

“And what did the cops say?”

“They took one look at my hickeys and my wet as fuck mouth and laughed and told me to give my girl a good ride for them.”

“So casual, culturally conditioned misogyny saved the day.”

“Well,” Bucky’d said, “kept us from being hauled off to jail as perverts so, yeah.” He grinned, reached for the magnum and topped Tony up. “Stevie did learn to lower the volume after that. Came in handy later when we were in France. Not a lot of privacy in the Army, you know.”

And it wasn’t like Tony hadn’t started that conversation fully and wholly aware of the massive crush he had on Steve, the impressive reserve of restraint he’d always shown in keeping that shit to himself, but it wasn’t until then that he’d blushed, felt his face turn the color of the rosé Banner and Barton were sucking down, because he couldn’t help but picture it: Steve with his arms wrapped around a tree, his forehead kissing bark in some dark forest as Bucky lit into him, pressing his dick in deep. Both of them still dressed, still in their muddy boots; their pants pulled down just enough for Bucky to clutch at Steve’s hips and shove in and--

“Sorry,” Bucky had said, clearly not fucking sorry at all. “Was that more than you wanted to know?”

“It, ah--I, um…”

Barnes had leaned over, scooted a little closer to him on the couch. “Maybe you’d like to hear about what a great kisser he is.”

The correct answer was no.  “Is he now?”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“And lemme guess, Barnes: you taught him everything that he knows.”

“Not everything. He’s picked up a few tricks along the way.” A big grin. “But, trade secret?”

Tony’s head had been spinning. And mostly not from the champagne. “Yeah, sure. Hit me.”

“Nothing gets him more worked up than a good kiss.”

Which is how they’ve ended up here, Tony on the end of a dare he’s dying to take, but one that frankly, he’s fucking afraid to. Kissing Captain America with his equally ancient and equally hot partner’s permission in front of the whole freaking team? That’s one thing. But kissing Captain America and having it be awesome and and knowing he’ll never get to do it again? That’s bullshit.

“So,” Tony says, “just to be clear: you want me to get him fired up and then send him home to you, is that it?”

Bucky sits back, his lips twitching, his hand rattling the ice in his glass. “Hadn’t thought of it in those terms, but yeah. I’d say that’s it.”

Across the room, Thor says something that makes Steve laugh, this great, joyful noise that booms through the penthouse, bouncing off this glass wall and that, and the look on Steve’s face--that smile, Christ--it sends a bubble of want to the top of Tony’s head, bubbles in his glass that are dying to pop.

“One minute!” Wanda trills from Nat’s lap, both of them grinning and giggly. “60 seconds until a new year, a new life!”

“So?” Bucky says. “Stark? You up for this or not?”

Tony drinks the last sip too fast and stands up quick and unsteady. “Yeah. Yes. What the hell.”

He’s halfway across the room before he realizes that Steve’s coming towards him, or in his general direction, anyway, making a beeline for Bucky, and it’s sheer dumb fucking luck that when he throws himself off that particular train, Steve’s kind enough to stop.

“Tony, hey, you ok?”

“30 seconds!” Barton hollers, three sheets to the wind.

“I’m fine.”

Steve catches him by the shoulders, squints earnest into his face. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

 _Ten_ , people start chanting, _nine_ \--

Tony reaches up and grabs Steve’s forearms, holds on for dear life; stares into those kindly blues and legit feels his knees knock.

“Tony,” Steve says, full-on Florence Nightingale. “What’s wrong?”

 _Five four_ and _three_

“Nothing, Rogers,” Tony murmurs. “Not a goddamn thing.”

And then the world is shouting _one_ and Tony is leaning in and Steve’s startled mouth’s there to greet him, warm and unintentionally wide and full of questions that Tony can’t answer, doesn’t try to; not with words, anyway.

There’s a loud pop and a rain of what feels like confetti, and it surprises him that Steve doesn’t push him away; that instead Steve’s hands slide up to his face and cup the contours of his cheeks. When their tongues touch, a shy stroke at first, then bolder, those hands go tighter and Steve makes a soft, hurt sound, something not unlike a sigh, and dear god, Tony think through his champagne fog, the gorgeous miasma that is Steve Rogers’ kiss: _yes_. He winds his arms around Steve’s neck and Steve’s hands fall to his sides and sweet jesus, the man’s grip is all vise, like he’s afraid if given half the chance, Tony will be one who turns on his heel to flee, and what the fuck, why would he when he can be biting at Steve’s lip and licking and feeling Steve push back and give as good as he’s getting, _shit._

Tony forgets where he is, what he’s called, what happened ten minutes ago, because Steve is kissing the shit out of him, no hesitation, with a fervor that says Tony’s lucky they have an audience because otherwise, Steve might have him pinned to the floor. Oh god.

“Hey,” somebody says in his ear. “Stark. You need to cool it.”

There’s a hand in his hair, then, a tug, and one that brings Steve back, too, the two of them nose to nose still and staring.

“Both of you,” Bucky says. “I think that’s enough. You’ve scandalized everybody enough.”

“I’m not _scandalized_ ,” Barton says from the loveseat. “I’m just mad Nat ate all the popcorn. This here is some quality shit.”

“Buck,” Steve says, breathless, “I’m sorry, I just--”

Bucky shakes his head. “Ah, ah. Nobody needs to be sorry here.” He kisses Steve’s cheek, then Tony’s, which hey, hello. “But everybody needs to take this someplace else, don’t you think? Because the next time you two lock lips, no one should be wearing pants, and that’s a sight I’m not willing to share.”

“And something none of us need to see!” Nat calls, pitching her voice over Wanda’s giggles and Thor’s booming laugh. “ _Ради бога_ , idiots, get a room!”

“I kissed you on a dare,” Tony says when they’re behind closed doors, when Bucky’s shoved against his back and Steve’s beaming down into his face. “A _dare_ , Rogers. Fair and square.”

“And?” Bucky’s working on his belt, biting none to gently at the base of his neck.

“A dare’s supposed to be spontaneous. A spur-of-the-moment thing. I feel like you guys set me up."

Steve nuzzles his cheek, humming as Tony’s thumbs find his nipples. “It wasn't a set up, Tony. Just a thought. Something that we talked about, you know. If the opportunity ever arose.”

Tony’s jeans hit the floor and Bucky’s hands find his ass, give him a firm, greedy squeeze. “Can we fuck now and talk later?” Bucky panted, his fingers creeping in toward the cleft. “Please?”

He comes with Bucky’s tongue in his ass and Steve’s fist tight around his cock, splatters onto Steve’s perfect stomach as he pushes back to get more of Bucky’s hot, eager mouth and then they lift him like a doll, straighten and push, until he’s riding Steve’s cock, all of that heat tucked way up inside while Bucky plays with him, holds him open and helps lift his hips and when Steve’s done, when he’s let go with a loud, fervent moan, Bucky takes him, pulls Tony up and tugs him back and feeds him every inch of his dick, shoving through the mass of wet that Steve has left, and that’s how Tony comes the second time: with a scream, a wall-shaking shout, because what he’s feeling being cradled in Bucky’s lap with Steve stretched out in front of them, big fist flying over his own stiffening dick, there is no way on God’s green earth or beyond it that he can keep that shit in.

When it’s finished, when all three of them are sated, Tony’s covered in confetti and spunk, in the sprawled limbs of super soldiers, each heavy with sleep.

“Stark?” Bucky murmurs.

“Yeah?”

A smile splashed on the back of his neck, a quick close of white teeth. “Happy New Year.”

Tony tips his head back until he can find Bucky’s mouth and feed him a small smirk of a kiss. “You too, Barnes.”

Steve stirs against Tony’s chest. “Keep it down, huh?” he grumbles. “So noisy, god. Shut up. Some of us are trying to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...my biggest takeaway from this? Hello Nat/Wanda/Thor! Is that even a thing? It should be.


End file.
